Charter Day Remarks, 2005
February 5, 2005
In the fall of 1963, Amherst College dedicated its new library in honor of Robert Frost. President Kennedy was there. He spoke, as you might expect, about great libraries and their critical importance to great universities. He concluded more broadly by reflecting on the proper purposes of a university education.
"The Library being constructed today," he said, "this college, itself-all of this, of course, was not done merely to give this school's graduates an advantage . . . in the life struggle. It does do that. But in return for that, in return for great opportunity . . . it seems to me incumbent upon this and other schools' graduates to recognize their responsibility to the public interest."
President Kennedy's argument for the public uses of university education resonates as powerfully today as it did then-for proof we need look no further than the remarkable achievements of our honorees. Each of them at some time clearly asked-what responsibility have I to serve the public interest? All of them have answered with their lives, and those answers, in very different contexts, have been brilliant and transformational.
So, remembering President Kennedy's words and the special spirit of our honored guests, let me ask: What is the responsibility of this community, at the beginning of this new century, what is our responsibility to the public interest? The answer, like so much else, changed on September 11, 2001. We now live in a different world: a world not of our making and not much to our liking, but a different world.
In the bitter aftermath of that great tragedy, some good has come. We have, for example, witnessed a welcome rebirth of patriotic feeling, a feeling first reflected in our determination to defeat an enemy who counts life cheap and who erred-fatally-in its belief that America had grown too rich and too lazy to fight for what matters most. That powerful feeling endures but its character has sometimes been degraded in ways that trouble any of us whose love of country is deep but not unquestioning.
Patriotism, if it is to mean anything important, cannot be reduced to a simple shout of loyalty, cannot be long sustained by simply affixing flag decals to anything that moves. Still less can true patriotism be nurtured if every honest doubt expressed about the wisdom of American policy is treated as a tendency to treason. Yes-dissent is a nuisance to those in power-but those in power need not always to be comfortable.
We have within us the power to touch a deeper, a more profound, cord of patriotic feeling, but only if we think to ask: What is it about our country that commands not just our affection, but our love? What is it in the American story that sustains our strong belief that this nation is and always has been "as a city upon a hill;" that we are and always have been "the last best hope of earth;" that we are and always have been "the great arsenal of democracy"?
Answers to hard questions like these open a path to understanding the deeper meaning of American patriotism. We love freedom, but the future of American freedom depends critically upon education. Jefferson knew it: "He who hopes to be ignorant and free," he wrote, "hopes for that which never was and never will be." It is education-and only education-that makes possible enlightened and active citizenship, which is itself the foundation of all civil and civilized societies. So for me, the essence of thoughtful patriotism-our "responsibility to the public interest" in President Kennedy's words-is expressed in the citizens' solemn commitment to work tirelessly for not only a strong but a more just and more tolerant America.
Just to the degree that we define patriotism in these broader terms do we deserve to call our country free and do we have the right to command the world's respect.
In saying these things, am I blind to the greatness and the great goodness of our nation? I hope not. Anyone who knows the history of our country knows the power of that story to inspire. But I am not speaking of then. I am talking about now. I am talking not about our ancestors. I am talking about us.
It is we who must kindle a renaissance of active citizenship, inspire a rediscovery of the rewards of thoughtful public discourse and informed participation in the political process. It is we who must be willing to accept a just measure of sacrifice when our nation's needs diverge from our own individual appetites. It is we who must insist on a government led by men and women of moral principle and practical vision, leaders who have the courage to tell us the hard truths-not soft slogans. Finally, and most importantly, it is we who must inspire in the hearts of our citizens a new spirit of public service-a spirit founded on a belief in each other and in the sanctity of the whole-without which our experiment as a republic would be irrelevant.
Because education alone makes possible this kind of constructive citizenship, institutions like ours-and those who hold position like mine-have a special responsibility to remind ourselves-and each other-that history will judge us by our success in this sacred work. So, too, do we judge the women and men who have gone before us.
A few weeks after the publication of the Declaration of Independence, John Page, an alumnus of our College and close friend of Thomas Jefferson's, took up his pen and wrote to Jefferson: "God preserve the United States-We know the Race is not to the Swift, nor the battle to the Strong. Do you not think an Angel rides in the whirlwind and directs this Storm?"
The faith of John Page was justified. His generation proved its worth before history and laid the foundation of all that has happened since-and an Angel did ride in that whirlwind.
We live today in a global whirlwind. We must pray that an angel directs this storm, but we cannot know-we cannot know. Of this we may be sure. Fate favors the just. Fate favors the brave. Let us live so that history will write of us: They were the generation-both brave and just-who found the heart and found the strength to preserve for posterity yet again the high honor of the great nation it was their privilege to inherit.
